


it's not the fucking plague, gavin, you're fine

by twinkshish



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Brothers, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Omorashi, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic, Trans Gavin Reed, Trans Male Character, Wetting, chloe puts up with so much shit we stan, gavin only has a cold agdhjkdjg hes a CHILD, it might help to read lethal caffeine and vore gauze but those arent necessary, kamski is not as much of an asshole as he couldve been, questionable technology, thats one wild ass tag boyos, you tried sweaty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkshish/pseuds/twinkshish
Summary: Connor gets sick. This is entirely Gavin's fault.Gavin gets sick. He doesn't want to admit it, until it bites him in the butt.Kamski is an asshole, but a loveable asshole.





	it's not the fucking plague, gavin, you're fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tamori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamori/gifts), [vsay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vsay/gifts).



> ITS PISS BABES
> 
> its basically just lethal caffeine except with more character development and! explicitly!! trans!!! gavin!!!! hell yeah

“Hey, dipshit!”

 

Connor turned around, propping himself up on the counter, and smiled warmly. Gavin scooted up beside him; despite his harsh words, the man’s eyes crinkled slightly and the corners of his lips quirked up. Stirring his coffee idly, Gavin seemed content to just spend time with him, a concept that both he and Hank had referred to as “chilling”. Humans said a lot of weird and confusing things, Connor mused—his sensors detected no temperature change, and he certainly didn’t _feel_ any colder. They almost never meant what they said, and that was frustrating at first, but Hank had told him (rather gruffly, with several death threats and uses of foul language) that he could always _just fucking ask_ if he didn’t understand anyone, and _if they give you shit I’ll fucking eat their finely ground bones_.

 

Connor didn’t want to know what that meant.

 

Gavin, he thought, was one of those weird humans. The man seemed rather...fond of hurling insults at him (and, he was coming to realize, _everyone_ in the precinct), yet his voice always lacked bite. Connor had observed Officer Miller responding in kind, once, and had expected a fight—yet the detective had only laughed, slapped the other on the back, and went on his way.

 

**_Observation_** _: Detective Reed insults people often. However, his facial expression and tone of voice vary with how close he is to the subject._

 

**_Analysis_** _: Detective Reed insults me. His behavior and expressions are consistent with behavior displayed towards Officer Miller and Officer Chen. He considers them to be friends._

 

**_Conclusion_** _: Detective Reed is my friend?_

 

His LED spun yellow as he processed the thought. Had he come to the same conclusion six months ago, Connor probably would’ve run a diagnostic by now, or rebooted, or called Cyberlife...but things were different now. Gavin had come to _him_ after the revolution (a fact which made warmth blossom in his pump cavity— _someone wanted to come to him_ ) and had stammered out an awkward but appreciated apology. Since then, the two began to talk more; the detective was still prickly as usual, but Connor could tell that it was less of a personal fault on his part and more Gavin’s...well, more _Gavin_. Speaking of…

 

“ _Fucking_ hell,” the detective whined, scowling, “the coffee machine’s been broken for _weeks_. I keep telling—” here, his voice was punctuated with a long yawn—”I keep telling H. R. that the thing only dispenses decaf, but they won’t _listen_.” Despite his complaints, Gavin downed the cup (“I SPENT $50 ON FORTNITE AND I’M NOT EVEN ASHAMED”) in one go, sticking out his tongue rather childishly. Connor snorted, smiling slightly.

 

“Detect—Gavin,” he said dryly (achievement unlocked: Say His Name), “how can you even tell it’s decaf?”

“It tastes different.”

 

_Computing…_

 

“That’s...highly illogical.” Gavin gave Connor _The Look_. “...And,” the android added, “completely fucking stupid.”

 

The look on Gavin’s face was _absolutely_ worth his near-death experience.

 

“Con,” the detective wheezed as he coughed up the last of the coffee in his lungs, “you have the biggest dick energy of anyone I’ve ever met.”

 

“Thank you, Gavin,” Connor replied, whacking the man on his back one last time for good measure. Gavin wiped his mouth shakily as he stood up straight, mumbling a soft _ew_ as he stared at the puddle of coughed-up coffee on the floor.

 

**_Observation_ ** _Detective Reed believes the coffee is decaf. He has not been able to prove this. This has caused him significant distress._

 

**_Analysis_** _: Determining the caffeine content will likely relieve that distress._

 

**_Conclusion_** _: …_

 

Gavin let out a most unholy _shriek_ as Connor knelt down and slurped the puddle up.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor regretted existence.

 

He said so to Hank, who just rolled his eyes and told him to _stop being a baby you’re not fucking dying_. The android whined into his pillow, stomach cramping sharply once again. He sniffled, brown eyes going glossy.

 

“Hank…”

 

_Puppy Eyes protocol INITIATED._

 

The man in question groaned, but was unable to resist (suck on that, Nines, at least Connor was _cute_ ). Hank ran his fingers through the android’s hair, shushing him softly.

 

“Jesus, didn’t even know you could get fuckin’ sick…” Connor leaned into the touch gratefully, his eyes slipping closed despite the bright red warnings clouding his vision. His LED had flashed sporadically all day between yellow and red, and was now stuck solidly on the latter. System checks hadn’t revealed anything wrong with his _biocomponents_ , per say, but, well…

 

Connor knew exactly why he felt like _shit_.

 

In all fairness, he _had_ determined it was decaf.

 

He had felt fine for the first day after that, and the next day too. However, right on Connor’s off day (now a requirement for androids in the workforce) he had woken up and promptly voided his artificial bladder all over Hank’s couch. _That_ was embarrassing—and it was the first sign that something was _terribly_ wrong. It was rare that he ever had to do an emergency purge, and even more rare that he had no warning beforehand. A quick consultation of the Official CyberLife RK Series Manual™ revealed that, buried in the footnote of a footnote, such action was taken when a foreign substance entered his digestive system that wasn’t meant to be processed.

 

Such a substance, in this case, was coffee.

 

Connor had thought that he could wait it out, but the atrocious amount of sugar in the mixture had clogged up his wiring and made it near impossible for him to self-repair—and, therefore, also eliminated the option of seeing a run-of-the-mill mechanic. That left two choices: visit CyberLife ( _NO_ ) or Kamski ( _might be dead; human disaster_ ). Neither seemed particularly appealing at the moment.  

 

The doorbell rang; Hank got up to answer it, and Connor mourned the loss of the comforting touch. Well, maybe he could try and enter stasis…

 

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?!”

 

So much for that. Connor listened in, interest somewhat piqued.

 

“...I heard Connor was sick— _shut up_.” Connor perked up at the familiar growl, scanning the entryway to confirm his suspicions. Yep, there was Gavin, but he wasn’t alone.

 

“A _kitty_!” Connor squealed, bolting upright. He fell to the floor in a heap of blankets and Sumo (the poor dog whined indignantly at being displaced in such a manner, the _nerve_ ), voice box wheezing mechanically from the exertion. Hank ran over immediately, kneeling to help him up, as Gavin hovered awkwardly in the doorway.

 

“Can I…?”

 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” groaned Hank, straining slightly to manhandle Connor into a sort-of-standing position. The detective entered, cat in hand (!!!), and waved awkwardly, not sure where to look.

_Achoo!_

 

Gavin sniffed, rubbing his bright-red nose slightly with his free hand (the other cradling a _very good cat, yes he is, good kitty_ ). His eyes were bruised and puffy, the bags even more prominent than usual, and he carried himself with a sort of weariness which Connor could _relate_ to. The man swayed on his feet unsteadily, and every so often shook his head as if to clear his mind. Connor detected an elevated body temperature, yet the detective was bundled up and still shivering. The android had seen many corpses in his line of work, in various states of undress, trauma, and decay; Gavin’s current state rivaled the worst of them.

 

Hank was not nearly so poetic.

 

“You look like shit on a stick, Reed.”

 

“ _Phck_ off, Anderson.”

 

Gavin coughed weakly, opening his arms to allow an _extremely good kitty_ to leap out of them. Connor was instantly enamored, cooing softly and petting it (much to the annoyance of Hank, who promptly left the room and gestured for Sumo to follow). The detective smiled tensely. “That’s, uh, Cheeseburger,” he offered, slowly sinking down onto the floor next to the android. “Got ‘im off the side of the road. He’s a real asshole, but I thought you’d like to meet him.” Connor laughed lightly, his voice box wheezing in protest, as he cuddled the cat to his chest; Gavin returned the smile tentatively, and then sneezed.

 

_Processing audio…_

 

_Matching to known sounds…_

 

_Match found: KITTEN SNEEZE (1.2k+ samples)_

 

_Analysis: Aww!_

 

“So,” started Gavin, leaning back against the couch, “how’d’ya get fuckin’ _sick_ , anyway? Don’t you have that, I dunno, self-fixing shit?” He wiped his nose along the sleeve of his jacket; Connor nudged over a tissue box.

 

“My self-repair is _limited_ ,” Connor wheezed, coughing mechanically. “The damage to my biocomponents is...severe. I’d need to go to someone like Kamski to—” He paused; Gavin had suddenly tensed, back ramrod straight, then forced himself into a falsely-casual slump. Still, the man worried at his lip with his teeth, tugged on the laces of his hoodie, clicked his tongue—all nervous twitches which Connor was familiar with. The detective pursed his lips, staring intently at the carpet for a moment, before looking up at Connor.

 

“If you’re...like, nervous about going to see Kamski, or having trouble getting in touch with the guy, or whatever…” Gavin shrugged non-committedly. “I could take you tomorrow. Or you could go alone and I could just let him know!” His face flushed; Connor couldn’t tell if it was because of his sickness. “Or Hank could take you. I mean, whatever works for you, you can just see him by yourself, I bet, don’t wanna, like—”

 

“Gavin,” Connor interrupted, tone dry but mirth in his eyes. “It’s _fine_. I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

 

“Are—Are you sure,” the detective wheezed around a cough, “that you don’t want Hank or someone to go? I mean, I’m not exactly the _nursing_ type…”

 

“Hank doesn’t like seeing me get repaired.” Connor shrugged, smirking. “It freaks him out, and I don’t want to go alone.” Gavin nodded, _achoo_ -ed, then stood shakily, offering Connor a hand.

 

“If we leave now, we could get there before it gets dark…” Connor winced, his artificial stomach cramping painfully, bright red warnings blinking in from all sides as he hauled himself up. Being sick, he had discovered, _fucking sucked_.

 

“That would be…optimal.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin’s car pulled up to the gated pathway, the display blinking yellow at him repeatedly. It was _way_ too bright, and he squinted blearily out the window, having to maneuver the car up to the display himself (hey, fully-automated cars were _expensive_ ). The screen, an equally bright and _fucking_ annoying blue, lit up like a fuckin’ Christmas tree. Ho, ho, _fucking_ ho.

 

“You know who I fuckin’ am,” Gavin growled into the receiver, shutting his eyes so tight they hurt. He ran a hand over his face, which radiated warmth, before glancing back at Connor, sprawled over the backseat of his car (probably illegal, but whatever). The android was wrapped in Hank’s Good Blanket™; he had spent the whole ride down to Kamski’s curled up there, occasionally coughing or whimpering pitifully. Truth to be told, Gavin really didn’t feel much better, and though he generally prided himself in driving his own car, today he had let it run automatically (keeping an eye on it, _sort_ of). He could barely muster the concentration to start up again when the gates opened up in front of them, until the car beeped at him. Connor didn’t seem to notice any part of his shoddy driving, nuzzling his face into the blanket and whining softly.

 

“Gavin, are we _there_ yet?” The android drew out his words, long and slow, slurring them slightly. “I wanna see _Kamskiiiiiii—_ ”

 

“Quit doing that, you sound like a fuckin’ broken record,” griped Gavin. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as his head pounded in another wave of pain. “We’re almost there, just hold on…” Pulling up and parking on the grass—sick people privilege—got them very nearly up to the door, and Gavin was able to help Connor out of the car. The android leaned heavily on him, his LED a solid red, as Gavin half-carried, half-dragged the two of them to the door. He kicked on it unceremoniously, and it was opened a few seconds later by an ever-done-with-life Chloe. She gave them a quick once-over, LED flashing yellow and eyes going blank for a second before greeting them with a friendly smile.

 

“Right this way, you two.” She offered an arm to Connor, practically carrying him, and Gavin breathed a soft sigh of relief of not having to take care of himself _and_ the robot man-child. It wasn’t any secret that he sucked at existing, but this was just taking it to a whole new level. He didn’t get sick often, but when he did it hit him like a sledgehammer. Gavin _detested_ being sick—he hated the dizzy, cloudy feelings that clogged up his mind and filled his skull with cotton. It was hard to remember even the basic things, like taking his T-shot or eating breakfast; even though he had remembered to do them _eventually_ , the day had been so busy with trying not to die at work until Fowler finally sent him home. He knew he had skipped lunch, _whoops_ , and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something else…

 

“Baby brother!” The doors to the centerpiece of Kamski’s home—his android lab—swung wide open, revealing the man himself dressed in what might have been nothing more than a white, fluffy bathrobe. He had his hair tied up in the douchiest man-bun Gavin had ever seen, and was wearing his glasses; so, they’d caught him at an inconvenient time ( _good_ ). Waving a nearly-full wine glass haphazardly around, he sauntered up to the trio. “How _kind_ of you to grace me with your presence, I was beginning to think you were dead.” Despite his flighty words, Kamski scanned Connor up and down with the eyes of an engineer, no doubt already putting together the problem. “Break another one of your toys, baby bro?”

 

“ _Phck_ off,” Gavin groaned, shoving past the asshole into the lab. “I’m just here because Connor wanted me to be. I don’t wanna stick around anymore than you want me to stay.”

 

“Oh!” Connor piped up, his LED a strange mixture between red and blue. “You are related!” He had a sort of pensive look on his face. “I understand now.” Kamski pouted— _pouted_ —dramatically, leading Connor into the back.

 

“You didn’t even tell him?” he drawled. “I’m _hurt_ .” Gavin flipped him off, shuffling after them, trying to ignore the discomfort all over his _existence_. Connor lay down on the operating table, Chloe moving near the head, in full view of Connor but not towering over him. “So,” Kamski drawled, flipping what Gavin could only approximate as a sonic screwdriver (???), “I can do this with you awake or in stasis, whatever you prefer.”

 

“If you wish to be awake, I will accompany you. We may interface, or you may speak with Elijah and Mr. Reed,” Chloe added, smiling down at him. “I have an extensive collection of dog videos, all involving _very_ good dogs.” Connor glanced nervously at Gavin, who gave him an awkward thumbs-up.

“I would...like to stay awake,” Connor said blearily, after a moment of thought. Kamski nodded, snapping his latex gloves.

 

“Excellent! Open up.”

 

Gavin watched in fascinated horror as Connor lifted his shirt, revealing his white endoskeleton around his stomach. The panels folded outwards, revealing a mess of wires, biocomponents, thirium, and...gauze? He didn’t want to know the story behind _that_ one. Kamski clucked his tongue, not looking happy at all.

 

“The hell did you do to my android, Gavin?” he said airily, leaning _into_ Connor ( _EW_ ) to get a better look. “This is gonna take two hours at _least_ —Chloe, darling, pass me the red thing, yes, that one…”

 

Gavin groaned, shuffling his feet. His head spun, and he blinked rapidly to clear the clouds out. He refused to sit down and, god forbid, make himself _comfortable_ in Kamski’s house, and settled for rocking on his heels. For about five minutes.

 

God, he was going to go absolutely _nuts_.

 

Chloe made no conversation with him, although she and Connor held hands, their endoskeleton showing and presumably interfacing. Kamski seemed completely absorbed in his work, and Connor was preoccupied with whatever Chloe had to say—er, think? Gavin coughed weakly into his hand, bemoaning his entire existence. His head felt like a powder keg ready to blow, his nose was stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey, and a pressing weight was building somewhere in his lower half. Oh god, he felt like _shit_.

 

“Hey.” Gavin jumped out of his skin, turning so fast towards Kamski that he nearly fell over. The man waved his hand around awkwardly, pursing his lips as he tried to come up with _something_ to say. He settled for a weak “how’s work?”.

 

“Same as usual,” Gavin grumbled in reply, suppressing another cough.

 

“And your medicine…?”

 

“My _hormones_ are doing just fuckin’ fine, thanks.” Gavin glanced over at Connor, but if the android was present for their conversation he didn’t say anything.

 

“Gavin.” Kamski looked him in the eye, and he had to break it quickly, squirming under his brother’s piercing gaze. “You know...if you ever need anything, I’m here.”

 

“I don’t need your _fucking_ help, Kamski _,_ ” he snapped back, barely holding himself back from a _where were you back then_? The man’s brows furrowed, crinkling in that way they always did when he was hurt.

 

“Don’t be fucking _rude_ , Gavin.” Kamski glared at him, almost challenging. “Do you push away everyone like this?”

 

“Not your fucking business, just leave me alone and let me live my life!”

 

“I _want_ to let you live your own life, but you don’t even talk to me anymore!” Any repairs were quickly forgotten. Both Connor and Chloe looked towards them, Chloe’s LED flickering yellow.

 

“Maybe I don’t talk to you because you’re an egotistical, self-serving asshole, huh?”

 

“If I’m all that, then what the hell are _you_?”

 

Gavin’s face flushed an angry red.

 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I _mean_ , when’s the last time you even talked to someone and been _kind_ to them?” Kamski sneered, brows drawing down even further. “Get a fucking grip, Gavin, you can’t go a day without dragging down _someone_ because you’re so _fucking_ insecure. Face it, you play way too rough with your little _toys_ , and you drag my ass out here to fix them up just so you can beat them up all over again—”

 

“ _FUCK OFF!_ ”

 

Gavin’s head pounded, and his hands shook at his sides. His vision blurred dangerously, god, he _hated_ being sick, and his head hurt and he couldn’t breathe through his nose at all, and the pressure wouldn’t go away, this sucked, this _fucking_ sucked—

 

“Hey.” Kamski crossed the room, heading towards him but keeping a respectful distance away. “Hey, hey, okay, I’m sorry, that was mean, you’re okay…” Gavin took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes roughly with his sleeve.

 

“Fuckin’ forget it, whatever,” he mumbled, crossing his arms and trying to resist the sudden urge to curl up in a ball and cry. Connor turned his head to him, straining slightly, softly whispering _it’s okay_ , but Gavin felt too sick to reply; this was both literal and metaphorical, although he was pretty sure that the metaphorical-sick was going to turn into sick-sick _real_ soon. He stood there in silence, staring at his shoes as Kamski got back to his repair work. Digging his fingers into his arms, Gavin inhaled sharply, rocking back and forth on his heels. He could feel Connor’s eyes burning into him, and, though he knew the android was only concerned, he did _not_ want to be perceived by anyone or anything. After a whole minute, Kamski broke the silence.

 

“...If you’re still upset, you can call me a dickhead.”

 

“Eat shit.”

 

Chloe looked ready to transcend into the astral plane.

 

“Um, Kamski?” Connor’s LED had faded from a brilliant red to a muted yellow; apparently, the main damage had been already repaired. “May I ask…” He glanced nervously towards Gavin.

 

“I took Mom’s name.” Gavin answered for him, still looking sullen but also not totally on this planet. He toyed with the string on his hoodie, watching Kamski carefully for any reaction. He found none.

 

The minutes ticked by slowly, the clock-hands turning at a snail’s pace. Gavin’s legs shook slightly from the effort of holding himself up; he was only vaguely aware of his own existence. His hands shook involuntarily, and his head swum and spun and did loop-de-loops through the bright, _bright_ lights, bathing the lab in cold blue. He shivered, and tugged his hoodie around himself just a little tighter. Kamski, Connor, and Chloe seemed engaged in some deep discussion—Gavin could make out individual words, but his head was too stuffed with fog to follow what they were saying. And, of course, the _hoe_ looked back at him, concern painted across his face.

 

“Chloe, darling, fetch a chair and blanket. Don’t give me that look, Gavin,” Kamski added pointedly, “you look like you’re about to keel over.”

 

“I would have to agree,” piped up Connor over Gavin’s weak protests. “Hank says that you should always rest when you’re sick.”

 

“‘M not fuckin’ _sick_ ,” Gavin mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut then blinking rapidly. “I-I just…” He trailed off, another wave of dizziness rushing through him. Oh _god_ , he just wanted to curl up in bed and die in peace. He shivered again, and _oh_ , the pressure was back, a voice in the back of his head was telling him that something was _wrong_ but he didn’t want to deal with it right now, it could wait, he was fine, and maybe if he just _relaxed_ …

 

Warmth spread suddenly between his legs, and, yep, the pressure was gone, Gavin could finally relax just a _bit_ . He relished in the feeling for just a moment, appreciating the warm and sense of _relief_ that spread through him, sighing softly and closing his eyes. He was trapped in his own world, where everything was foggy and fluffy and not entirely there.

 

“What the _fuck_?!”

Oh. He opened his eyes, and Elijah was there looking...surprised. And angry. His brother got upset with him a lot, even annoyed, but _angry_ was bad, _really_ bad, and _oh my god he just wet himself._ He just wet himself, Dad was going to find out, and he’d get in trouble, and _Elijah_ would get in trouble, and he was _still going_ . Gavin opened his mouth, trying to say something, _anything_ , but the words got stuck in his throat and a miserable sob came out instead. He felt like absolute _shit_ . He was cold, wet, and tired, and now he was in trouble, and he wanted his brother, _he wanted his brother,_ but Elijah was _mad_ , and he couldn’t stop the tears pouring down his face as he dug his fingers into his hair, just wanting it all to _stop_.

 

“O-okay, okay, hey.” Calloused hands rested on his forearms, and Gavin froze, but they weren’t Dad’s hands, not rough and gnarled and _mean_ , but warm hands. Safe hands. They rubbed soothing circles on his wrists, tugging his arms down gently away from his head. Gavin couldn’t look up, and he stared down at the shoes, plain black sneakers, which were stepping into the puddle that _he_ made, and a fresh round of tears poured down his face.

 

“D-dad—” he gasped, whimpering, and the hands stilled for a moment before resuming the circles. Gavin tried to concentrate on the circles, he _really_ tried, just like Elijah had told him to do whenever he got upset, but it was _so hard_.

 

“...Gavin, he’s not here. He’s not here, you’re not going to get into trouble.” Elijah mumbled this to him, looking wide-eyed and open and _honest_ , and Gavin was able to breathe a little easier for just a moment. “You’re not in trouble. Nobody’s mad, I’m not mad…” His brother _wasn’t_ mad, he could tell, but he just looked concerned and...sad.

 

“I-I’m _sick_ ,” Gavin wailed, as Elijah put a hand on his hand, gently leading him to the door out, throwing a casual _Chloe, keep Connor company_ over his shoulder. Gavin clung to Elijah’s arm, taking shaky, tentative steps, tears and snot running down his face, an occasional sob forcing its way out. _Dad’s not here_ , he repeated to himself, over and over; somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew that the man _couldn’t_ be there, but he couldn’t convince himself it was really true.

 

Elijah lead him through a door, into a luxurious bathroom, sitting the two of them down on the edge of the tub. Gavin slumped forward, burying his face into his brother’s shoulder and crying pitifully. Fingers carded through his hair, and he could feel the soft rise and fall of Elijah’s chest.

 

“Okay, Gavin? I need to you to tell me where we are and why we’re here right now,” his brother whispered softly. Gavin thought for a moment, his breathing slowing to match Elijah’s.

 

“I-I’m...we’re at...your house. Your house,” he whispered, his grip loosening slowly on the other’s arm.

 

“Good, keep going.”

 

“I’m here...with Connor. He’s sick.” There was a pause. “...I’m sick.”

 

“ _Good,_ good,” Elijah cooed, rubbing Gavin’s back. The detective pulled away, eyes still puffy, and looked Elijah in the eye, before his face crumpled, new tears forming.

 

“I feel like _shit_ ,” Gavin whimpered, clinging to his brother once more. “I hate being sick…”

 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” Elijah sighed, petting Gavin’s hair gently. “It’s okay, you can just take a bath and get some rest and you’ll feel all better by tomorrow.” This was _absolutely_ the wrong thing to say; Gavin wailed miserably.

 

“I-I left Cheeseburger at Hank’s house!”

 

“Jeez, kid, it’s okay, I’m sure Hank’s taking care of him just fine.” The two stayed in the hug for a minute, before Gavin pulled away, still looking like death itself but considerably more put together. Elijah stood, patting him on the back. “Hey, I’m just gonna give you privacy, so take a bath, okay? Chloe’ll bring you some clothes. I gotta check on Connor.” Gavin squirmed slightly, the idea of being alone again bringing him considerable anxiety, but he relented. These pants were getting _hella_ itchy.

 

“Y-yeah, sure.”

 

“Alright,” Elijah made to leave, but Gavin stood suddenly, stopping him.

 

“Hey, wait!” Gavin froze, inwardly cursing his own clinginess. “T-thanks.”

 

“Sure, kid.” And Elijah was gone.

 

Gavin peeled his wet pants off, glancing at himself in the mirror. God, he looked like he’d just crawled out of a dumpster behind an Arby’s at two in the morning (and he would know; he _had_ done that, once [college was wild]). The burning shame that came with seeing the _evidence_ of his accident brought tears to his eyes once again, but he shook them off, undressing and running the bath.

 

It was a struggle, to say the least.

 

Gavin could barely concentrate, the sickness making everything blur together in a confusing tangle of tasks to do. He spent over an hour in there (hey, at least his sinuses were clear?), finally getting out when the water ran too chilly for his liking. Cracking open the door, he found a fresh set of clothes waiting for him, as well as a laundry bag for the wet ones. Gavin pulled on the sweatshirt and boxers, grateful that Elijah had seemingly picked out the most comfortable clothing he owned. Wriggling into the pajama pants, Gavin exited the bathroom, making his way to the lab.

 

“Gavin!” Arms wrapped around him, and Gavin hugged back after a beat, realizing it was Connor. The android pulled away, grasping his shoulders and examining him carefully. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you’re still sick,” he said, chidingly. “Your self-repair functions take _days_ to complete, and you need to rest.” Gavin snorted, a tired smile spreading on his face.

 

“Did you just make a joke?” Connor nodded, and Gavin shook his head fondly. “God,” he said, “you’re the nerdiest person I know.”

 

“I am a _supercomputer_ , Gavin,” Connor replied dryly, “my left pinky is far ‘nerdier’ than humankind’s entire existence.”

 

“Not to interrupt you lovebirds,” Elijah snarked, “but you should probably spend the night here. Hell of a drive to make it back this late.” Connor thanked him as Gavin flipped him off. The man left as dramatically as he came, disappearing into a side room (presumably, another lab), leaving the two alone.

 

“Hey, Gavin?” Connor looked at him earnestly. “I...admit I do not understand what happened today, but know that if you _ever_ need me, I will be there.” The android’s brown eyes were filled with warmth and sincerity. “If there’s anything I can do to help you when you’re having an attack, or if there’s anything I need to do differently, tell me.” All Gavin could muster was a half-assed shrug, flushing slightly.

 

“Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Connor.”

 

Connor opened his arms slightly; Gavin went for the hug, nuzzling his face against the android’s jacket. He sighed contentedly, relishing the physical contact and affection.

 

Hey, he could get used to this.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <3


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